A soft whimper pulled Gair from his sleep. He blinked his eyes open and looked around the odd structure that Isobel’s friends called home. From the outside, it had looked like a pile of fallen brush wedged into the trees. From the inside, the frame seemed to be made of giant ribs with animal skins stretched between them and a layer of plush furs covered the ground. If they were ribs, they were from an animal far bigger than anything Gair had ever seen. It seemed impossible any animal could be this big, but at the same time, it did look as though they were sitting in the belly of a great beast. He’d have to look through the animal book when he got home and see if he could find a mention of an animal big enough for several men to stand inside of it.A hole in the top was directly over the fire, and the smoke escaped through that. The cavernous space was still hot, even though the fire had died to just coals and embers. At one end there was the door, where the soldiers were sleeping. At
Two days later, Izzy had had all she could take of the grand old Duke of York. She stood by the horse she shared with her husband, adjusting her weapons and wishing she could shoot the man where he sat. She was sick of hearing about Protestants and Catholics and Anglicans. She was sick of hearing how to bring peace to Scotia, England, and Ireland. She didn’t care, so long as the fighting stayed away from her. Apparently, it hadn’t, which is why she and Gair were not heading back to Sinclair. Mostly, she was tired of being told to change who she was. “Honestly, Isobel,” James said, looking down his long nose at her from where he was perched atop his horse. “Trews, a sword, and a bow? They haven’t even any feminine adornment. Have you no shame? Your husband will have to hire a proper English tutor just to be sure his daughters will not be shunned when the time comes for them to wed.”“He does nay have to worry on that if I do nay bare him any children.” “You may dress a lad, but you
Gair clenched his jaw and shifted on the saddle, trying to get his manhood under control. Since his wife looked like a lad from behind he had not anticipated this problem. Especially since it had not happened to him in the past few days. The tunic, trews, and short hair didn’t fool him at all this day. The longer they rode together the worse it got. She smelled of woman, his body knew she was his, and his mind knew what was hidden under that tunic. Every time she brushed against him desire shot through him. When he closed his eyes, the image he saw was not that of a lad or even a woman dressed like a lad. His mind created a picture of her in a soft dress the same shade of green as her eyes. Lord she was bonny with those red curls bouncing around her speckled face. She would not want a big skirt like London's pale, fashionable ladies. One that clung to her hips and legs would suit her better. They were so much more alluring anyways, hinting at the shape of what lay beneath rather than
“Messengers from the Royal house!” the travellers called back as they approached. Izzy scrunched herself up as tightly as she could, hoping no piece of her was visible from outside the trees as she listened to the horses' approach. She wished even more that she could pull her clothing down and get herself properly cover herself. She nearly screamed when a deep voice called out, “Is that you, Laird MacInnis?”“Aye, ‘tis I.”“Good! I’ve yer horse and some of the contents from your lady’s chambers.”“Some? You didn’t bring the whole trunk?”“It is a long tale. We have come to cool ourselves in the water. I see you have a fire, perhaps we can talk over a meal?” Panic rose like a lump in her throat, choking off her air as she heard the horses start to walk through the stream.“Lady Isobel has recently bathed,” her husband said, “place yourselves around the bend for decency.” Izzy couldn’t see them, but since she heard his sword slid into its sheath she assumed they were doing as he’d sugge
Like a candle burned too low, the brightness of her hair flickered for a moment and then was swallowed by the darkness. Gair cursed the night and the trees as he urged his horse to go faster. The animal tossed its head, reluctant to travel quickly over unfamiliar ground that it couldn’t clearly see. “Easy, Cazador, just a wee bit faster,” he urged. He didn’t want the animal to be hurt, but he wanted to get to the bush before his wife disappeared completely. When the horse came to a stop, refusing to step even a single hoof into the bush, Gair dismounted. His feet snapped on some twigs when he swung to the ground at the edge of the brambles and someone not far inside the bush cried out in fear. It was not his wife’s scream. He slipped into the bush and headed in the direction of the scream as quickly as he was able, unsheathing his dagger as he went. With no further noise to direct him, Gair stopped, waiting for some indication of where to go. Either from the person who had screamed
Gair held his nephew in front of him on his horse. The lad was wearing Isobel’s shawl tied around his hips. The younger one was wrapped in linen and happily sleeping in the maid’s arms. Isobel was barely speaking to him. Her attitude towards the boys since the sun had risen was bothering him. Before she’d gotten a good look at them she had wanted to hold them while they slept, but the moment the sun had risen she’d become quiet, and after they’d broken their fast she had given the child to her maid without saying a word. When he spoke to her now her answers were as short as possible.David really did look like he and his brothers. From his thick black hair and eyelashes to the coffee brown of his eyes. He had Gair’s own faint dimples too. Something his brothers lacked. So even if she met his brothers the lad would appear more his than Dair’s. “Why is it the boy has yer name if he is really yer brother’s lad?” Gair clenched his jaw then relaxed it and tried to speak with patience in
“By order of the Royal House of Stuart, show yourselves or we will open fire!”Gair rolled his eyes. “Does that ever actually work?” Isobel asked. Gair almost ginned at the skeptical tone of her voice.“Not usually,” the soldier admitted.“I thought not. Wolves would nay understand and a band of thieves would nay be so daft as to believe showing themselves would do anything by giving you a clear shot.”“The Duke requires we give warning before we open fire. It is cowardliness to do otherwise.”“I see. Well, they’ve been warned now, aye?”“Aye.” The agreement was barely out of the man’s mouth when Izzy loosed her first arrow. The second was ready to fire before the man on the other side of the bush started to squeal.“Do nay fuss like a wee bairn” she called out, “ye were warned and me arrow but hit yer foot if anything. Hobble on out the lot of ye or the next arrow will be higher. Right about heart level, so like as not I’ll hit yer face since yer all bent low.”“Did ye have to shoot
Isobel could barely keep her eyes open as the rising sun turned the sky pink. Thank goodness they’d had clear skies and a full moon! The horse had been able to guide itself, for she was certainly too sleepy to do it. She wasn’t sure what the MacInnis men had told her husband, but they had ridden in silence all day, not even stopping long enough to make a kill or cook a meal. Their pace was steady, just the right speed that the horses did nay seem to be growing overly tired. The soldiers seemed as alert as ever, likely they had slept the night before. It was now more than a day she’d she’d napped the afternoon away by the river. The heat of the afternoon had been hard on her. The sun had burned her, she could feel the heat in her hair even now as the next day’s sun was rising. Her face would be as red as her hair.Fortunately, the lads had fallen asleep near sunset, after having some cheese and ale from the MacInnis men. Mary was holding the smaller one and her husband held the older b